


enojado conmigo

by castcommune



Category: In the Heights - Miranda/Hudes
Genre: Emetophobia, alcohol use, nobody gets sick but it's mentioned
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-21
Updated: 2020-02-21
Packaged: 2021-02-28 01:53:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,311
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22835827
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/castcommune/pseuds/castcommune
Summary: He wants to talk to his cousin, who he isn't as close to as he used to be, who has his own stuff going on and probably doesn't even want to deal with these two punk ass kids who don't know the first thing about being adults; Pete sighs, barely audible. // Sonny goes out for a night on the town. ;)
Relationships: (not enough to be tagged), Graffiti Pete/Sonny, also implied van and navi, but it's platonic and they're Not dating, lightly implied - Relationship
Comments: 1
Kudos: 17





	enojado conmigo

**Author's Note:**

> this is my first time publishing any ITH work, so please be gentle! i just really love the rabbit hole of "what will sonny be like once he's an adult", so here's my take on that 20 year old garbage fire of a man. leave a comment down below if you want more written for it! xx

The door of the bodega swings open wide, and Sonny looks up from his spot at the counter, feet kicked up on top of it, music playing at the end; Usnavi would murder him if he ever saw this sight, all nonchalant and relaxed --- good thing his cousin wasn't here to see it, then, right? He glances over to the door, almost expecting to see one of the girls who lives close by, or maybe some guy dropping in to restock on ice or beer --- a grin breaks out at what he sees, instead: his best friend, already grilling him, saying stuff like _we got plans_ , and _where's Usnavi, don't he know you're not staying here all night?_ \--- Sonny knows that his _cousin_ knows that he has other plans --- _prior engagements_ , as he so called them; still, he shoots his cousin a text, or two, or five. 

> _[txt.]; ay usnavi i've gotta go, are you comin back in?_ _  
> __[txt.]; pete's already here and i'm not about to make him wait_ _  
> __[txt.]; i'll stay til you get here but i aint staying any after that_

and of course, without a response --- without a single word --- his cousin comes in about five minutes later ( _he must've been at abuela's_ , Sonny realizes, and he almost wants to apologize for taking the guy away from her --- he knows that she only lives across the block, but still. A visit's a visit. ). By the time Usnavi comes in, Sonny is already up, feet off the counter, music swapped from his phone's audio to the little radio his cousin prefers to use; he's finishing up work at the register, about to say his goodbyes to the latest customer --- a girl he had a crush on back when he was younger; they flirt a little these days, but he would never date her long-term --- and to his cousin, he probably looks like a star citizen right now, standing here talking to the clients and making small talk and asking them about their day ( the entire conversation is only in Spanish, _but isn't that more endearing?_ , he would ask. _Don't you love me more because of that?_ ). 

He tries, though fails, to convince Usnavi to close up early tonight; _you gotta get your rest,_ Sonny says, _ain't no girl gonna wanna date a man who sleeps in his bodega and never sees the light a' day._ \--- he makes a fair point, and they both know that Usnavi cancelled plans with Vanessa for the second weekend in a row _because_ he wants to keep the shop open into all hours of the night, but it doesn't go much further than that. _Go, have a blast_ , the guy says, as if Sonny would do anything else; even if it sounds sarcastic and borderline condescending --- even so. Sonny doesn't have the time for that kind of negativity, not tonight --- not when he has plans to hit a few clubs with his best friend, maybe go tag a couple of buildings, maybe stargaze on a roof. He leaves the store a couple minutes later, laughing and joking with his best friend as they go to their first destination of the night.

The club is loud, and crowded, and none of these facts really bother him any; he catches sight of Vanessa, and some dude dancing with her all close and intimate, and he wants to tell Usnavi about this so badly --- _your girl was dancin' reaaal close to some dude, and you're just gonna let that slide?_ \--- he makes a mental note to tell him tomorrow, or the next time he sees the guy. Whenever that is, but _tonight's not about Usnavi,_ Pete ever so loudly reminds him, and Sonny brushes it off easily --- _yeah, right,_ he says, _fuck him! Makin' me work all week and shit,_

They migrate towards the bar, somehow, and as Sonny is talking, complaining over the music about his cousin's work ethic, Pete slides him a shot glass. Sonny doesn't drink, not really; not that he has anything against it. Their apartment has a decent stock of alcohol, and he's never been angry about any of his friends liking that sort of thing. He looks to the drink in front of him, then to his best friend, a cautious smile slipping out before…

_one, two, three!_

He downs it in one go, coughing a bit right after; he knows people don't drink it because it tastes good, but why do people even enjoy this kind of thing? His friend laughs at him, pats him on the back --- they're always so close, always touching in some way or another --- and the night just goes on. They dance a little, they laugh and kiss and enjoy each other's company, before a friend of a friend comes up, shots in hand, and who is Sonny to say no?

_one, two, three!_

Again, it slides down his throat with reluctant ease. He doesn't cough this time, which is progress, if he could call it such. Pete is proud of him, grinning as Sonny takes it like a champ; if the kid starts to feel bad, he knows to stop. Sonny knows that, too, trusts Pete with every fiber of his being --- if it gets to be too much, if the music or the drinks or the atmosphere starts to overwhelm him too hard --- he knows his best friend will remove him from the situation. It's a sort of trust, one Sonny doesn't have with anyone else.

_one, two, three!_

Again.

_one, two, three!_

Again.

_one, two, three!_

Things start to feel unsteady. He blinks; he was fine before, he was having fun and really enjoying their evening, but now everything is starting to feel a bit too melted, a bit too mixed, a bit too in-motion. Pete looks to him, genuine concern etched across his expression, and over the music Sonny hears him ask: _you okay? you wanna go?_ \--- Sonny, not really happy about the prospect of ruining anyone's night, shakes his head a little --- _nah, it's cool, i'm good_. A moment of silence between them, quiet communication; if Sonny says he's good, then Pete will let it go. For now. 

They dance a bit more, but this only makes Sonny feel even more out of sorts; the lights flash and move and pulse around him, like the beating heart of some intangible thing, and he finally allows his hands to find his best friend's shoulders, to grip them with as much might as he can possibly muster; _I wanna leave,_ he says, and after a moment of consideration, Pete moves to wrap an arm around his friend's shoulders, guiding him carefully through the maze of strangers and friends alike, past the pulsing lights and the music that vibrates through their bones. They make it outside, and they walk a few buildings down the street, just to give Sonny even more space. The smaller of the two looks worried, upset with himself; he starts to pace a little, not satisfied with staying still and giving in.

_You wanna go home?_ , Pete asks again, just watching for the time being, but Sonny shakes his head again. _Everything's all messed up_ , he says, _I feel like I'm gonna get sick, and I don't wanna 'cause I know nobody_ **_else_ ** _is like that, and_ **_you're_ ** _not like that so why should_ **_I_ ** _be like that_ \--- Pete finally steps forward, laying a hand on each shoulder; he holds Sonny there, firm, steady. They stand there in silence; he's seen Sonny drink a few times, though not very often, but no other time has been like this. No other time has made him freak out like this; it's probably the stress, or so he would guess --- not that he's going to tell Sonny that --- not right now, not like this.

_I...I gotta text Usnavi_ , Sonny finally mutters, fumbling for his phone; he wants to talk to his cousin, who has argued with him at least three different times this week, who has ( in Sonny's mind ) done nothing but belittle, and condescend, and be cruel. He wants to talk to his cousin, who he isn't as close to as he used to be, who has his own stuff going on and probably doesn't even want to deal with these two punk ass kids who don't know the first thing about being adults; Pete sighs, barely audible. He frowns as his friend finds the phone, thumbing through the messages and typing out his first one; he won't stop Sonny from doing anything. He would never. Sonny types away.

> _[txt.]; usnavi can i come to your place_ _  
> __[txt.]; its really important_ _  
> __[txt.]; navi please?? jus text me back_

and he looks so determined, so desperate, as he types out these messages. He watches as they send, one by one by one, and he stares at the screen, as if he would get an immediate response. A second goes by, then another, then another, then another, until finally the bubble pops up: Sonny breathes a loud sigh of relief, mumbling a quiet _oh thank god, thank you, thank you_ , as he sees that his cousin is typing. A message pops up, then one more.

> _[txt.]; not gonna be there for another ten minutes_ _  
> __[txt.]; you ok?_

He looks to Pete, blinks once or twice; it's easier to focus on one thing at a time, he finds. The screen is easier to stare at than his best friend, who looks very clearly concerned, who has since released his grip on Sonny's shoulders but still stands there so close, so protective. _I'm gonna go crash with Usnavi_ , Sonny says, and Pete wants to call his bluff, wants to say _ain't he the one who made you feel like shit all week? Ain't he the one who was mean to us earlier?_ \--- he doesn't say any of this, though, not wanting to upset this drunken mess in front of him. He knows how Sonny deals with negativity like that, knows that if it came from anyone else, Sonny would fight back and face it and process it --- knows that since it's his cousin, Sonny boxes it all up and waits until it all bursts like this. It sucks, and it's a terrible thing to see, but there was nothing he could do about it now. He only nods, tells his friend _I'll walk you over there_ \--- he's happy to see that Sonny doesn't argue with that or protest it any, and they resume their previous position, Pete with his arm around Sonny's shoulders, walking so close together --- as they make their way to the place that Sonny _used_ to live, back before he decided to try and pave his own path, before he decided to be independent to a fault. 

They don't say much on their way there; they occasionally stop, so that Sonny can re-gather himself and potentially get sick ( he never does, thankfully ), but Pete doesn't mind this any. He regrets letting the kid drink so much, _knowing_ that Sonny's never been great at handling his liquor, but again, what could he do about it now? He wouldn't try to stop Sonny, or anyone, from doing what they wanted to do; he doesn't want to explicitly say that this is Sonny's fault, but this is what he thinks of it. This is how he views it. 

They get to the apartment building, and Sonny stops at the front door; _I got it, I got it_ , he says, and Pete hesitates --- Sonny insists, though, pulls his phone out just so that he can text his cousin one more time --- it's been well over fifteen minutes since their first interaction, after all --- and Pete inevitably just gives in, watches as Sonny goes through the door and disappears out of sight; later, he would text the kid to make sure he was okay. For now, though, his part was complete.

Sonny walks up the stairs, through the halls, and finds himself at the front door of his old residence; he _used_ to have a key to the place, but it's currently lost in the mess that is his current apartment --- he never needs to get into Usnavi's place anymore _anyway,_ so why carry it around everywhere? He regrets that now, standing at the front door and just staring down at his phone; before he can even type anything out, though, he decides that _you know what, fuck it_ , and raps his knuckles against the door a few times. It's loud, it's obnoxious and desperate and a bit too dramatic, but it does the trick; his cousin opens it just a moment later, expression just as annoyed as ever --- this very quickly morphs into one of concern, though, as he sees the state of the boy in front of him. Standing there, eyes a bit glazed over, expression looking miserable, is the kid who's in college, the kid who has big dreams and a great life and such a promising future ahead of him.

"Sonny?" he asks, voice gentle, cautious. He holds the door open wide, takes a step closer to the person in front of him; in turn, Sonny approaches _him_ , feet heavy, balance a bit off, gaze directed anywhere but to his cousin's own. Usnavi continues. "Woah, ten cuidado, hey," and Sonny just stops, swallows whatever pride he has left; he stands there for a few seconds, almost wanting to go back and find Pete, almost regretting ever coming back here in the first place. In the end, he just keeps walking forward.

_I messed up,_ he finally mumbles, walking into the apartment like he doesn't actually belong there; his voice matches Usnavi's, still quiet and private. He goes to sit on the couch, plopping down and frowning a bit at the familiarity. _Usnavi,_ he continues, _I dunno what I'm doing. I did stuff I shouldn't've done and I don't..._ \--- and as he speaks, Usnavi shuts the door, locking it before going to crouch down right in front of his little cousin --- just like how they used to do, back when Sonny was just a kid getting into fights with people so much bigger than him ( when he would come over crying about how _some guy was being mean and said mean things about you!,_ with his scraped knees and his black eye and blood on his knuckles, and Usnavi would just listen patiently, cleaning and patching him up ). Here, Sonny just stares down, but doesn't really look at him; he looks, but he doesn't look. They both understand that.

"Slow down," he finally says, cutting Sonny off before he can ramble any longer. "Did something happen?" he asks; then, there is only silence. Sonny brings a hand up, wipes at his eyes --- he isn't crying, he would defend, it's just the drinks fucking with him --- and he doesn't want to tell Usnavi _anything_ ; he doesn't want Usnavi trying to blame Pete for any of this, because Pete didn't do anything _wrong_ \--- in truth, he isn't even sure _why_ he's so upset. He just knows that he's having a bad night, and he ruined his best friend's night, and he's here with his cousin who probably doesn't even _want_ him here. Usnavi frowns.

"It's okay," he continues on, marching on just like he always did ( just like when Sonny would come home upset about something from school, or the girls at the salon picking on him again, or his friends excluding him from plans again --- he listens, he does what he can, and he tries his best to fix it. He has always done this ). He watches his cousin sit there, a hand wiping at his eyes again, and it breaks his heart in two; if Pete did anything to cause this, _anything,_ then he's _dead_ by the morning. Still. He remains calm. "Estas bien, it's _okay_. Necesitas algo? Some water maybe?" and Sonny nods at this, however faint. However hesitant. Usnavi gives him one more look, making sure he's going to be okay for a little bit, before he stands and makes his way to the kitchen. It's quiet for a moment, just the sound of the cabinet closing, the water running.

_I don't even wanna_ **_be_ ** _here_ , Sonny finally says, however quietly; even from across the room, Usnavi can hear the way his cousin is probably only a few seconds away from crying. God, he thinks, he's always _hated_ it when Sonny cries; the kid has been through enough, hasn't he? Sure, times are hard, and life isn't easy, but at least let him feel okay _some_ of the time; it's the least this world could do for them. He disregards the comment for now, only bringing the glass of water back across the room; he resumes his previous position, there crouched in front of his cousin, who then holds the cold glass with both palms wrapped around it. Usnavi hesitates in letting go of it completely; he trusts his cousin, sure, but he doesn't really want to be cleaning up glass tonight. When Sonny moves it up to take a sip, this is when the older of the two finally lets go of it completely, watching with a concerned gaze --- after about two sips, Sonny holds the glass out to hand it back to him. Usnavi takes it back silently.

"How much did you have tonight?" he asks, and Sonny just shakes his head a little. Usnavi frowns. " _Sonny_ ," he says, and his cousin starts to look a bit more frightened, a bit more like a child who just got in trouble for something they shouldn't have been doing; he pulls back a little. His tone goes a bit softer. "You're not in trouble. Quiero ayudarte, yeah? So you have to _let_ me help you. How much," and he watches as Sonny eventually resigns, eventually looks a bit less scared, a bit less threatened; this is progress. The younger of the two just thinks for a few moments, frowns as he looks away from his cousin. _I dunno_ , he finally murmurs, and that is all that he says. That is all that Usnavi is going to get from him tonight ( for fear of getting his best friend in even more trouble, for fear of his cousin yelling at him, for fear of feeling like a failure all over again ). Usnavi holds the glass of water out to him again, and Sonny takes it carefully, sipping it once, twice, before handing it right back.

"You wanna talk about it in the morning?" this is the next thing that Usnavi asks; he doesn't ask it to be rude, or to force his little cousin to talk. He thinks back to moments like these in the past, back when Sonny was thirteen and feeling like the entire world was against him --- they would fight and argue, and almost always, Sonny would come back only a few hours later and they would talk about things calmly. Sonny would run from his parents' place, upset about something that was said, and after letting it all out through anger, would sit down with Usnavi and talk things out, one by one, piece by piece; Usnavi has never been good at heart-to-hearts, but he tries. He will always try, for Sonny at the very least. Here, in this moment, Sonny actually considers it for a moment before just shaking his head again. Usnavi knows what that means; he knows what it means when Sonny is upset beyond words, when he's given up on trying to be angry or upset. 

Sonny sniffles a little, a hand moving back up to wipe at his eyes.

Things are quiet for a few moments. Usnavi watches him closely, considers all of the options in his head; what probably happened --- what he really imagines happened tonight, before his cousin showed up at his front door --- was _someone_ , maybe Pete, maybe anyone else, pressured Sonny into drinking too much. He knows how Sonny is --- knows that Sonny doesn't like to say no to peer pressure like that --- and god, if he wasn't angry at the world before, then he definitely is now. Sonny has so much ahead of him --- he's in college, which is a great feat all on its own --- and the kid has _never_ been a big fan of alcohol. He's always loved dancing, and being with friends, and he's never hated anyone who _did_ drink, but he never wanted to actually do it himself, and Usnavi _knows_ this. If Sonny doesn't blame anyone else for tonight, then Usnavi will. Usnavi always will. After a few moments --- after Sonny takes the glass of water again, sips it, then hands it back --- the younger of the two finally speaks up again.

_Estás enojado?_ , he asks, wanting to finish it, wanting to add on --- estás enojado _conmigo ahora?_ ( are you mad _at me now?_ ) --- but he doesn't. He just ends it there, words faint and quiet and barely audible, all jumbled together and hesitant; he still won't look his cousin in the eye, still won't face anything that's actually going on. Instead, he just looks to the window, where a sliver of night slips past the closed curtains. He used to stare out that window a lot, back when he would stay here when he was a kid ( before he left his parents for good, before Usnavi decided to try and raise him; this living room window, facing the street with its little businesses and lives, it always felt like a fishbowl view of the barrio --- look out, and you can see a little sliver of paradise. You can't see their bodega from here, but he knows it's out there, somewhere. ) Usnavi moves to set the glass on the table at the end of the couch --- has to drag the table a bit closer, but he still makes it work.

"I'm not mad at you," he says, finally moving from his crouching position at the kid's feet; things are calmer now, but he still won't leave Sonny's side. Not yet, anyway. He grabs one of the blankets that was draped across the back of the couch --- a heavy quilt he got from abuela probably years ago, at this point --- and he helps to wrap it around his cousin's shoulders, bundling him up. Once he's settled --- and once Usnavi is sure that Sonny won't be getting sick --- he settles in at the kid's side, still watching him, still being cautious. 

_You're not mad? For real?_ , the kid's words cut into the silence, still quiet, still hesitant. Usnavi sighs to himself; this was going to be a long night. He thinks for a moment as to what to say; he wants to say that yeah, he is a _little_ mad ( _am I mad at you for comin' over in the middle of the night drunk as hell?,_ he would say, but he knows that would only upset his cousin even more ). In the end, he just resigns himself.

"You're good here," he finally says. "I'm never gonna tell you ya no me _importa_. You _know_ that." or at least, he _hopes_ that Sonny knows that; he would never brush his little cousin off, claiming he doesn't care anymore, or that Sonny is all on his own. He would _never_ do that to the kid, no matter how often he might say otherwise. He watches as Sonny moves around a bit, leaning back against the couch, then leaning moreso on the side of it; Usnavi moves a hand to Sonny's shoulder, which prompts the kid to muster a quiet, _'m not gonna get sick, Usnavi, I promise, I got it_ ; Usnavi isn't convinced, not completely, but he wants to believe him. He'll give him the chance, for now. 

Sonny doesn't really say much else; he ends up inevitably just leaning against Usnavi, curling up against his side, and dozing off. They stay like this for a long while, Usnavi just holding his little cousin close; he feels so warm, so heavy, but it still reminds him of the old days ( back when Sonny would wake up from a bad dream and come into the living room --- the apartment only having one bedroom, it was given to Sonny very early on. He wouldn't explain it, he would just ask to sit with Usnavi, and this is the position they would assume; Sonny is older now --- he's almost twenty-one, somehow --- but it still feels the same, even after all these years ). After a long while, once he's certain his cousin is fast asleep, he moves to wake the kid; not a lot, but just enough to convince him to move to the bedroom --- he isn't going to make his drunk cousin sleep on the couch. Sonny, in his half-asleep, half-still-drunk state, obliges, and once Usnavi has him all set and all comfortable in the bed, he feels like he can actually breathe. He turns the heater on, leaves it at just the right temperature for his cousin to be alright in; he drags the kitchen trashcan into the bedroom, putting it right by the bed ( just in case --- he doesn't know _how_ much his cousin drank, but he really doesn't want to find out by seeing it all on his floor in the morning ). Once everything is settled, he goes back to the living room to clean up a little.

He sleeps there, on the couch of his own apartment, and it all just feels so _right_ , somehow. Maybe home _isn't_ an apartment, he thinks, just as he's beginning to doze off to sleep. Maybe it isn't the barrio, or the bodega; maybe home is just being somewhere with the only family you have left. Maybe _that's_ what he's been missing lately; he isn't sure, but maybe sleeping on it will help him figure it out. Just maybe. 


End file.
